Keane had been spending several minutes training with his bokken. Savelad took a swig from his jug. “Anyone can learn t’ fight with a sword. ’Takes a true warrior to fight with their soul.” Passing his words off as drunken ramblings, Keane continued to strike his weapon downward, repeatedly. “You hear me, Boy?”

“Aye.”

“The warrior’s soul flows through his blade. It’s an extension of his body. Yer arm ends with a blade. Yer spirit flows through yer entire body, every extension.” Keane strikes the empty space in front of him, once again. “See that sack of beans?”

“Aye.”

“Try hittin’ that.” Keane readied into a position in front of his new target. “Hold on. Close yer eyes. Now, feel the strength in yer heart. Feel it flow through yer arms and through yer blade. Feel that energy. Embrace it.”

“I don’ feel anything.”

“Keep yer eyes closed. Pull it from yer chest. This energy’s yer soul, Boy. Yer most powerful weapon. Once you feel it, let it go, and strike.” Almost a minute passed, and Keane swung, tearing the sack of beans open on the floor of the deck. “How’d that feel?”

“Like hittin’ a sack of beans.”

Savelad lumbered to his feet and removed his scabbard from his waist. “Try this one,” he said, gesturing Keane to take his sword. Keane pulled Savelad’s blade from the scabbard. It was light in weight, but still, almost heavy, in a way. It felt powerful. He held the sword in front of him, his feet in stance. “Whatta ya feel, now?”

“That’s enough. Sheath the blade.” The curved blade slid into the scabbard and locked into place with a click. Savelad returned the weapon back to its place on his belt and collapsed back onto his barrel of a stool.

“What if I don’t have a soul?”

“‘Met a man once. Said that he had to earn his soul. Never paid that thought much mind. Seems you’ve done more to earn yer soul than I did at yer age.” The Captain took another swig. “Don’ worry. You’ll find it.”

Well we have successfully taken over the ship and put Zzyzx in the captain’s role. I have learned that I am surprisingly good at skinning a human being, a corpse of course. Sadly Croup walked in on that and I accidentally made an example for him. I just wanted those murderous bastards to know not to mess with us. It’s not like Plugg needs his skin anymore. Anyways, we saw some pirate ships engaged in battle against a merchant ship so we went onto an island to see if we could gather any more shipmates from either side. Ends up the pirates are more cats…. The merchants are far too much for us to take so instead we have a tentative alliance.

Spent the last 24 hours fighting for our lives, save our lost crew mates, and head back to the ship for a well deserved rest—- Get attacked by half the crew. Mother Fuckers. Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! We haven’t been through enough these last few days? This is the time when they choose to kill us? What complete and utter morons, if it had been me I would have waited until we were closer to port, when we can be easily replaced. At least we killed most of them, including that fat tub of waste (was going to let him live as a jester of sorts but he pushed it), and anyone left will learn: Do not mess with us.

It was during meal one night — after not a bad day of hard work. Everyone was sitting around, some how managing to sort of enjoy their meal of slop-in-a-bowl. Kroop approached, a bowl in one hand, a bottle in the other. “Hey,” he said, “I got a question for you all.” The crew pretended not to notice him at first, but then again, he spoke, this time a little louder, “I say I got a question for you?”

Finally, some irritated voice asked, “What’s yer question?”

Kroop cleared his throat, took a swig from his bottle, and cleared his throat once more. Then, sound came out of his mouth:

What do you do with a drunken sailor,What do you do with a drunken sailor,What do you do with a drunken sailor,Early in the morning?

It took forever but we did find our lost crew mates…In the worst possible place I have ever been. I am getting much too old for this. Well not really, just it was a lot to deal with since we also had to deal with that foggy island place (twice). Feels like I haven’t rested in months. I am glad that Oatu is a tiny octopus and not some giant devilfish monstrosity. I would say that fate was on my side, or luck, more than likely should have died in that watery death trap several times.

At the helm, no I didn’t go mad. But there’s many who think I am. Nah, I was just afraid.

Now’ don’t be lookin’ at me like I’m some kinda coward. Everyone gets scared. Unless they really are mad. Most’re just too cowardly to ‘mit it. There ain’t no feeling like that of knowing you’re about to die — the focus, excitement, every action you take influencing whether you live or die. That’s what it means to really live.

You gotta treat yer fear like any other beast that aim to take yer life. You meet it in battle. Tame it, and ride it. It’s now yer tool, yer weapon. Own it, and show your enemies how you overcome it. Most men run from fear, or hide it. But to wear it, conquer it, use it — that’s intimidating.

Respect the duel. It ain’t no ordinary fight. It’s a sacred act shared only by two men. Or women if it suits yer fancy. When you duel, you look yer opponent in the eyes. Never cut ‘em down before they have a chance to defend ’emselves. It’s all ‘bout the honor of warrior and blade. All y’really need to r’member is that it’s a fair battle between two warriors, a fair test of skill an’ ability. There’s no honor in shabby tricks.

When challenged, you gotta show up. Where I come from, it’s just fine to forfeit. It’s more honorable to admit defeat to a better warrior than to cower out. An’ don’t go ‘round challengin’ every swordsman you see. That’s just petty. If I train you right, you can strike down jus’ ‘bout any soldier ’round. You challenge a duel when you’re honor is at stake, or when you find a worthy swordsman who will test yer skill in battle.

Savelad stopped. The crew was silent. Smoke was still rising from the ship. He turned, facing the young man. “What is it, Boy?”

Foster, standing about fifteen paces from the Captain, spoke after only a brief hesitation, “We could’ve avoided them, altogether.”

“Go on, Lad. And think carefully ‘bout what you really want’a say.”

Foster swallowed, but looked Savelad in the eye. “We could have turned around. Outran them. The ship would be fine an’ no one would be dead.”

The rest of the crew only watched. A swift wind whistled, then faded. “I made a decision, and I won’t be disputed on my ship. Now, I’m tired, Boy. I want’a rest. I’ll let you off with bilges duty if you ’pologize, now.”

Foster drew his sword. “I’ve made my decision, too, Capt’n. And I don’t think you’re fit to run the ship.”

“So be it, Boy.” Savelad unsheathed his weapon, as well, and the two of them stood face-to-face, blade-to-blade, the entire crew circled around them in anticipation. At that, moment, Keane jumped out into the middle, his wooden sword raised to Foster. He knew where his loyalty was. Foster broke the law of the ship, so he’s the one at fault. “Stand back, Lad. This is my fight.”

Foster charged forward, his sword striking from the right, only to be deflected by that of Savelad’s. He was fast. And graceful. It was difficult to anticipate his maneuvers. Yet, blow after blow, Savelad managed to deviate his attacks, though it did look like it was difficult for him to get one of his own in. Finally, with one swift jab, Savelad’s blade was pierced through Foster’s abdomen.

Savelad retracted his blade, wiped it off, and sheathed it. Foster fell to the ground. Savelad knelt beside him, and spoke softly, “Too bad, Kid. I liked you. You would’a made a fine captain some day. But not on my ship.” He stood up, and began walking to his cabin. But before he went below deck, he walked by Keane. “Next rule: Respect the duel.”

It was late afternoon when all crew were called to deck. For Keane, who was shorter than most of the crew and 11 years of age, it was easy to get disoriented in the confusion of several hustling bodies, but like the rest, he made his way to deck with haste. Within seconds, it was obvious what was going on: a naval warship was spotted. The Coral Raider was in foreign waters, and not all people take kindly to pirates. It wasn’t long before cannons were being fired from the spotted craft as well as the Coral Raider.
Just minutes ago, Keane had been below deck, practicing with his wooden sword that he now had fastened to his waste with a crude sash.

It was clear that this ship was much larger than the Raider, and that they were significantly out-gunned. “All crew stand back! And keep those cannons going!” Savelad took the helm, “Alright, Men, we’re gonna make a pass!” He shifted all focus ahead, his eyes wide open, his teeth making a sharp grin. The look in Savelad’s face resembled excitement, but there was more, like he had just become more alive, more focused, more insane – that was it – he had just gone crazy for the excitement of battle.

The Coral Raider began to pick up speed, changing it’s facing to the front of the naval warcraft. The craft began to turn turn to face its cannons towards the Raider, but the arc of the Raider’s course almost compensated until the two ships were seemingly about to collide until the final seconds where the Raider passed right by the side of the larger ship. It was at least one deck higher than the Raider, cannons firing both ways. Shivers and boards were flying in the smoke. At least one man dropped down onto the Raider where two sword killed him instantly.And within a few seconds, the other ship was behind the faster, smaller ship. A few man-held guns were still being fired from the stern of each ship, but there was no way the larger of the two would be able to turn around and catch up w iththe Coral Raider.

The Coral Raider had taken heavy damage, but it got away. Two crewmen were dead, three others injured. And all before a single target was hit. It was a poor result to a promising raid. “Set a new course. Find me a place to fix me ship. I’ll be in me quarters.”

“Hold on there, Capt’n.” All eyes looked towards the one who dared speak up. It was a newer recruit, as fast as we was strong, and charming as well. He was well-liked, all-around even by the Captain, himself. His name: Foster.

My what an eventful time we are all having on this GODFORSAKENISLAND! I got viciously mandible-hugged by and Ankheg and had to in the end sacrifice a poor pony so we could all get away. We climbed a very large staircase only to get attacked by these vine armed things. If that wasn’t enough, I saw Keane heading towards a building and I followed him rather than take the rest I so very much needed. Ends up there was this undead man who was hanging from the ceiling and used Keane as a step ladder and then showed his obvious enthusiasm at getting down by vomiting out a swarm of mutant bot flies. Cat guy set the building aflame and did that building go up in flames something fierce. In the end we all somehow survived and while everyone else was combating the fire I took a much needed rest. I am sure Zzyzx wanted to strangle me for taking a rest but as far as I am concerned it is far more important that I meditate and get all my spells back. We rode back down to our boat (See? That rest allotted me back those summon spells I needed) and are now heading towards a cove in the hope of returning to the boat with our lost shipmates. We are going to need all the help we can get against Plug and Scourge. Also Sindara is a nice human and I wouldn’t mind her returned to us.

Keane watched the port get smaller and smaller, the boat beneath him already rocking as it does on sea. The man who stole his food, no longer on the ship. He was no longer able to serve on the ship, so he was left behind. It was probably for the best. Keane would be too tempted to take the man’s life. As Keane rest near the stern of the ship, he could hear familiar footsteps approaching from behind. “Looks like you decided to stay,” said Savelad. He had some kind of pipe in his mouth, seaping out the smell of smoke and spice. “Now that yer healed up, you can work. You can start by rigging up those sails.” He cocked his head towards the rigging where two men were already working.

“Aye,” Keane responded. “And how’do I do that?”

“That’s why you’ve been watchin’ them. Now, get to work.”

Keane hustled to the rigging, and began to work as best he could. For the next few days, that’s where he worked. On one occasion, a rope snapped due to an error on his part, and ship ship went off course. As stormed to the rigging, and Keane was already working to fix it. With the help of the other riggers, the ship was soon in sailing condition. “What happ’ned‽” Savelad demanded.

“The rope snapped,” Keane replied.

“Why’d it snap‽”

“I d’know.”

“’Cause you messed up!” he shouted, kicking Keane in the knee. “Now get t’yer feet and don’t mess up again!”

Keane wished it were that easy, but every once in a while, he would make another mistake, and he was never sure how the Captain would respond. At times, he would get violent, but other times, it was almost as if he didn’t even care. There was another occasion where Keane was responsible for a crate of supplies going overboard. Savelad watched the entire thing, and didn’t even flinch, as if it never happened. He even saw the Captain beat one man to unconsciousness with his fists. Keane didn’t even know what that poor guy did to deserve that.

Other than rigging and swabbing, another one of Keane’s usual tasks was to feed the beasts below deck. The beasts, as they were called by the crew, were Cyclops. The odd thing was that they weren’t often restrained, only locked behind a door. Even more odd was that between the two of them, they would have no problem breaking down that door, but the door wasn’t damaged any more than any other door on this ship.

After about of week at sea, Savelad approached Keane during his evening meal. He had a bottle is his hand and his breath smelled of spirits, It was unclear how much or how long Savelad had been drinking, and it was difficult to gauge his inebriation. “I’ve d’cided that yer a pretty tough lad, and you’ve got heart. At my age, I should be thinkin’ taking on a disciple, and there’s not a lot of young folk who I would rather train than you. You understand what I’m sayin’ here?”

“Yer sayin’ you want to train me at somethin’.”

“Aye. There be a word my master taught me. He learned it from his master who took it from his native tongue. That word be ‘sensei.’ That’s what I’ll be to you.” He took one final swig from his bottle and threw it overboard, then walked away.

The next morning, Keane began his normal tasks. While on the deck, about to climb up the rigging, Savelad threw a splintered board before him, and from his boot, he pulled a small knife and threw it, sticking it into a crate beside the boy. “Make yerself a sword. A dull one. Make it look like mine if yer able.”

Keane had only seen the Captain’s sword drawn a few times. And usually when it was unsheathed, there was something else happening that was a little more eye-catching. But Keane did remember that there was an unusual curve to the blade, and that it was only sharpened on the one side. It was unfortunate that he had little to no experience working with wood. After a couple of hours of work, Keane did manage to create a crude bludgeoning instrument slightly resembling the Captain’s sword. Savelad was less than impressed, however, and destroyed the piece that Keane had spent the entire day creating by cracking over his knee. “You can try again, tomorrow,” he said, as he took the broken pieces with him.

For the next few days, Keane carved away at planks made of inferior wood, and every evening Savelad would destroy what he had made. Finally, after the Captain had destroyed his wooden sword, Keane shouted, “No! I’m not doin’ this again! Yer givin’ me the worst wood on the ship, this knife is dull, an’ no madder how good I do, yer jus’ gonna break it again. I don’ think…” That is where Savelad interrupted Keane by picking him up by the scruff of his shirt. The Captain began walking across the deck, carrying the boy. Keane could see the side of the boat getting closer. “No! I didn’t mean it! I’ll do it again!” Keane felt the impact of the wooden deck as he was dropped.

“Get down there.” Keane realized he was dropped at the door going below deck. He did as ordered, and the Captain followed. “Keep goin’.” Keane went down another deck, and even one more deck, every time the Captain behind him. Savelad punched Keane in the gut, dropping him to the ground. He then opened one last door, and kicked the boy into the bilges. “I want that clean by morn’n.” The door above closed, and everything was dark.

Morning came, and Keane hadn’t slept. The door above opened and a crew member instructed Keane out. He then handed the boy a plank and the same dull, knife. “Cap’n said you’d know what to do wit’ these.” Keane took the items and found a place to begin whittling.

Two more days passed, and the Captain was ready for his nightly inspection. “It seems you’ve gotten pretty good, I see,” he said, handling the wooden sword in his hand. “This be pretty fine work.” His tone was convincingly sincere. “Too bad this be firewood.” Once again, he broke the sword, and continued on his way.

Keane was really upset, now. But he didn’t want to spend another night in the bilges, so he kept his mouth shut, but his fists were tight, and a vein in his forehead protruded with anger. He couldn’t believe that Savelad would do that. He actually seemed to like this one.

Morning came once more, and Keane could here the Captain coming. He turned to the sea, not wanting to look at the Captain at the moment. He heard the sound of wood hitting the deck, and saw it land in the corner of his eye. But this wasn’t a plank; it was a wooden sword that seemed to be made by a master craftsman. “I’ll be takin’ my knife back, now.”

Keane picked up the sword. “What’s this?” he asked, a little puzzled.

“That’s yer new trainin’ weapon. The ones you made would’ve broken, anyway. I managed to snap ‘em with m’hands, even. This is made of solid wood. Break this one, though, and you will have to make a new one.”

“Aye, thanks.”

“What’re you doin’? Get to the rigging.” Keane was about to run to the rigging until he remembered he had a three foot wooden sword in his hand. “Take it with you. Take it where ever you go. It’s yer weapon and yer life.” Keane fastened it to his body using some loose rope, and continued to the rigging. Savelad lit his pipe.

Plug seems to be up to something, something that will probably result in him killing us quicker than assumed. Great ends up he wants to keep the boat for himself and be captain which definitely means he will just get rid of us lot. We will have to deal with that a bit later because a storm is moving in. We where attacked by these weird octo-goblin things called grindylows which we fended off easily enough (I assume). Unfortunately two of the crew have been taken by the little blighters. The lot of us are off to “gather water” at the nearest island, hopefully we will be in time. Go around the island, attacked by giant crabs and lost out on their delicious flesh, sort of feels like an outside force is denying us the niceties of life. Walked through a corn field and got attacked by a swarm of mutant botflies which luckily have a taste for blood and I summoned a bloody skeleton to keep them distracted. He should resurrect himself in an hour or so, feel kind of bad about that but I don’t have the luxury of going back and dousing the bones in holy water. Good thing it has no soul.

Merchant ship tries to flee us but we catch it, board it, and take it. We all got a nice share of the booty and partied for the better part of two days. I didn’t really revel with everyone else since I still prefer time to myself (exception is Oatu) but I did make a shark soup for everyone for having survived our first boarding. Got assigned to the new ship along side my friends and Croop. Sadly though I have to leave Grok behind, I shall miss her greatly. The only thing left to say is that I am very surprised that Speedy the Cowboy took down so many sailors and…a shark. Truly animals are amazing things, sadly this means that we have one less meat pig on our journey.

“I see yer awake, Kid. Get to yer feet!” The man remained still in the doorway, the angle of the light highlighting the deep grooves of his face. Keane stood to his feet, putting up with the pain, knowing that now was not the time to disobey orders. “Ya’ killed three of my men. I’ve killed men for lot less. Why should I keep you ’live?”

“What‽ Nothing‽” The man took a step forward, moving his hand to the hilt of his sword. Keane took a defensive stance, not sure what the man was going to do next. “Do you want to die, Kid?”

Keane shook his head, “No,” keeping a stern eye on the weathered man.

“Use words, Kid! Do you want to die‽”

“No,” replied the young Keane. There was a fierce calmness on the surface of his voice, but under that, fear.

The man released his grip on his weapon. “That’s why I’m not gonna kill ya.” The man took another step forward. “I’m Cap’n Savelad. This is my ship, the Coral Raider. When yer on my ship, you best listen to my orders or you will find yerself off my ship an’ swimmin’ fer land.” Savelad turned to the door and began to leave. “Ther’ll be a call fer food in a couple hours. Rest up now, ’cause tonight you sleep with the crew.” That’s when he left, leaving the door open.

Keane was left alone in the room, not sure if he was a prisoner or a guest. For the next few hours, he sat in solitude. He was left there with his thoughts and the sounds of creaking wood and muffled voices from the deck. The pain was still bad, but he had no idea of Savelad’s intentions. As promised, food was announced a few hours later. Upon hearing the call, he did realize that it had been a while since he had eaten. Almost reluctantly, he did leave the room. It hurt more to stand this time than last. The threatening voice of the Captain almost certainly had something to do with his previous lack of hesitation.

As he made it to the deck, it didn’t seem a whole lot different from the ship he was just on. The only difference was that everyone was potentially armed, and may not be beyond killing him for any number of reasons. Holding a bowl up to the galley workers, he was spooned a ladle of some kind of soup, and upon tasting it, he realized that even the food was pretty much the same. Although, this wasn’t too surprising, considering that the food on this ship was almost certainly taken from the last one.

Before he could find a place to eat his meal, another member of the crew, a brute of a man, swiped Keane’s bowl, and gulped it down. “Thanks, brat,” he said, following his words with a loud belch and throwing the bowl on the deck before the boy. Keane immediately saw a hook, and contemplated gutting the man right there on the deck, but he understood the possible consequences of doing so. He looked to the helm, and caught sight of Savelad watching him. Most likely, he witnessed the whole thing.

That night didn’t go any better. The same goon made him sleep on the floor. The scent of worn boots wasn’t even that bad compared to the moist floor and the rats that would scurry over his body every now and then. After a long night, morning finally came. And punishment from the pirate didn’t stop. At the next meal, the man once again stole Keane’s meal. As the boy brooded in frustration, he felt someone pull him from behind. It was Savelad. “What’re you doin’ Kid‽ Yer never gonna eat if he keeps takin’ yer food!”

“I know that,” said Keane. “But I ain’t gettin’ thrown off this ship.”

“The weak don’t survive, Kid. If you don’t eat, you ain’t gonna survive. If you wanna make it anywhere, ya gotta be strong, even if it means takin’ advantage of the weak. That’s why he’s gettin’ fed and yer not.” Savelad faced and pointed to the stern. “Seems that yer done eatin’, you can take point up there and watch the crew. You ain’t much use to me ’til you can work.” Keane thought there for a second to think about what the Captain said, until his thoughts were interrupted with a sharp “Move it!” That’s when he made it to the stern with haste.

The day went by, and mealtime came, once more. He waited in line for his food, and made his way back to the stern. Before too long, he saw the same sailor approaching him. He reached out his right hand and started, “I’ll take yer…” Before the man could finish speaking, he found himself hollering in pain from the shivered plank that young Keane had pierced through his hand. Kean then grabbed the cargo hook, and ripped it into the man’s leg, pulling him to the ground. Releasing the hook, he grabbed one more splintered board, stepped on the wounded man’s chest, and prepared to drive the plank through the man’s neck.

“Get off ’em!” shouted a familiar voice. Savelad had a sword drawn, and a crowd had formed around the scuffle. “You!” looking to the bully pirate, “Get outta here!” The injured man began to crawl away before another two sailors helped him up. “And you!” looking towards Keane. I don’ care how you make yer place on this ship, but you never kill any of me crew, again! Not as long as yer one of ’em! Understand‽"

“Aye,” he replied. This time, the fear in his voice was harder to hide. Savelad quickly left, and the crew mostly carried on as if nothing had happened. The night came to an end, and this time, Keane slept as well as any other crew member. The next day was much like the last, just with less conflict.

Sometime during the day, about the time the sun was at its highest, Captain Savelad approached Keane, who was once again positioned near the stern. “We’re due for land in a few days. Yer free t’leave when we hit port. Or stay, if that’s what ya want. Until then, keep watchin’ the crew do their jobs. If yer not gonna be able to work, you best least learn somethin’.” He didn’t wait for a reply. He just walked away.

Keane thought he’d be glad to get off this ship, but he wasn’t exactly sure where he’d go from here. Over the past couple of days, he had built as much of a life on this ship as he had anywhere else. And there was something about the ship and its Captain that made him want to stay. Which he couldn’t explain, because he had never met anyone who put as much fear into him the Savelad. Either way, it looks like he at least knew if he were a prisoner. But he still had no answer to why the Captain spared his life. Was is compassion? No, he doubted that. But the Captain always seems to have a reason for his actions. Staying aboard might be the only way to get any more answers.

The night was dark, the air chilly; the streets smelled of filth. There were no lanterns lit on the streets tonight, only a dim light coming from the occasional dwelling and and the shining lighthouse near the docks. That, along with what the night sky provided was just enough illumination to see where Keane was going as he hiked through town.

The eleven-year-old runaway was still spattered with blood from the events that happened only hours ago. He thought that maybe killing the man would make him feel different, like that his life might change, but that was not the case. Nothing felt different at all. Not now, anyway. But when that chisel made its way through the man’s naked back, he did feel something. Something different, like a burst of energy run from his lungs and flow throughout his body, ending in his bloody hands. It was invigorating. Though it only lasted mere moments. After puncturing the man a few more times, he was brought back to reality. His mother, still disrobed and underneath the limp, bleeding corpse of a client, screamed in a hysterical panic. Hearing voices and a barking dog from the neighboring dwelling, Keane ran.

By this time, though, all pursuit had stopped. He is no longer in a hurry to get anywhere. Except maybe away from this port. After all, there are consequences to murder, and in the morning, people may likely be looking for him once more. He had to get to the docks. It’s not like this town had a very bright future for him, anyway.

For days, Keane hung around the docks, trying to gain passage to anywhere he could. But there were not a lot of ships anchored at the time, and those that were were not looking to have a child join their crews. Finally, a merchant ship came in to port. It was damaged pretty heavily. The crew was light and in low morale. It was clear that a number of them had recently been killed in the attack that made the ship appear as it did. Almost reluctantly, the Captain allowed Keane to join the crew. After all, he needed all the help he could get, and all the boy asked for was passage.

Things happened and then this was thought about but didn’t actually occur.

Had a talk with Fish Guts today, which didn’t end so well… Ends up he was a restaurant cook who became indebted to the captain. This basically turned into indentured servitude. There was this massive storm in which the gnome went over board, and I tried to save him on the back of a dolhin but in the end Logan made it to him first. Logan, like Zzyzx is obviously not human and I find it sort of funny that they act like this isn’t noticeable. there was a race in which I bet on Logan but Zzyzx won. We have spotted land but won’t be landing due to the fact the area is infested by dinosaurs and Kavva. The lot of us were sent to a reef to do some hunting and got some very good meat from these lobster-crab monsters. The captain seemed to appreciate it enough to give us back our gear.

Keane awoke in a gently-rocking room, dimly lit by the sun, making its way in through the window. The smell of salty air and the sound of creaking wood only confirmed he was still at sea. Suddenly, he felt pain. His legs ached as his arms and chest stung, and his hands and face burned. He rested his eyes down to his body to see red-stained bandages. That’s when he remembered. This was not the ship he boarded at port. He had a feeling he knew where he was. What he wasn’t sure about was why he was still alive.

The last thing he was able to recall could have been days ago. There’s no way to tell. He was standing in smoke on the deck of a merchant ship, his old captain dead on the ground, maybe ten feet from him. Other crew lied scattered around him, dead. The smell of black power and blood almost masked the salty air of the ocean.

The ship was only just attacked, but it all happened in mere minutes. The eleven-year-old sailor had been below deck, repairing regular damage, when he heard the first cannon fire. At that point, he dashed to the closest window, seeing the pirate vessel closing in. Almost immediately, the invading crew had come aboard, swords drawn. These were veteran raiders. Keane grabbed his hammer and ran to the deck. With his hammer, young Keane bashed in the skull of the first man he saw and grabbed his sword. This is where he was noticed.

Keane withdrew up the stairs and up to the helm, being perused by another pirate. This one engaged Keane, cutting at his left arm, and then his left left. He was toying with the kid, but he was reckless. He underestimated the child, and soon Keane’s blade went through his right arm, and the man immediately dropped his weapon. Even with his injury, the man was able to fight off Keane a little, mostly using his size to his advantage. Finally, the lad was able to maneuver his blade around and into the man’s neck. Blood sprayed and Keane held his stance, not even blinking, his hands on the sword and the sword in the flesh. He felt a rush of power, and his eyes widened.

In the corner of his eye, he could see another man aiming his pistol through the smoke. Keane let go of the weapon, and threw himself behind the wheel. The impact of the missile was evident and splintering wood flew in many directions. On his belly, he crawled to the bow of the ship, looking for something to defend himself with. Another gunshot hit even closer than the last. A sudden stinging strike came from his side. He realized that a portion of wooden shrapnel had hit him. He made it to the What he found was a boarding axe.

He made his way to his feet, and two more goons were coming at him. He ran, away from the helm, down the stairs, and back on the man deck, the two men following him all of the way. He turned and threw the boarding axe at one of his pursuers, but the man avoiding the weapon with ease. He ran until he saw his captain, dead on the deck. He grabbed a splintered board from off the ground and prepared to embrace the pirates. The first one hit him with a club, knocking him to the ground. He felt an incredible pain in his chest, but he did not let go of his weapon. He could see the men standing over him. With his right hand, he drove the board into of the pirates’ chest, blood raining on his weakened body. First it went red, then black.

That is the last thing he was able to remember. Now, he is bandaged, lying in a crude cot, still the most comfortable bed he’s had in months, and some how, not dead. Probably. This is where he heard footsteps, loud ones, from someone who must walk with power. They were getting closer, coming from behind that door, the only exit to this room. Keane tried to jump up and prepare to defend himself, but he was too sore. He was unable to move more than a few inches. In his struggling, he managed to tear open at least one of his wounds. He cried in pain, though he tried as hard as he could to muffle to sound. The feet were just outside the door, and the door hinged open, a large man behind it.

He was at least six feet in height. He had tan skin, scarred and marked with ink. His face was formed from detailed lines and prominent bones, almost like a range of mountains and valleys. His eyes were dark and still. He wore his hair up in some kind of careful knot behind his head. He wore simple clothing, all under his long coat and bared three swords at his waist, each of a different size.

It was a typical night in Gorm Cuan, a port city of the land. At least three large ships were anchored at the docks. For Mairenn Fogerty, it was a good night for business. She left her modest home, holding the white ruffles of her sky blue dress in her gloved hand, attempting to keep it as far off the filthy ground as she could. She removed a hand mirror from satchel to take one final look at her rouge and auburn hair, making sure she looked her best for her clients. After all, the quality of her company for the night will largely be determined by the quality of her appearance.

The city was lit up and full of life. Just about every building near the docks contributed to the brightening of the normally dark, night sky. Music and laughter and singing could be heard throughout the district. There was no festival scheduled, so either someone of great importance or great wealth must have made port. Mairenn quickly made her way to her usual corner, a look of confidence on her face.

A number of men hollered and waved to her, but tonight, none of them would do. Tonight, she had raised her prices, refusing to go home with the usual scum who make their way through town. After only a short while standing there, she caught sight of a well-dressed man atop a horse. He was wearing a red cape and a large feather grew out of his matching hat. She waved to him, and blew him a kiss off her white kit glove. Her green eyes met his. The connection was as instantaneous as it was short.

Just as they locked eyes, Norah, a rival of Mairenn, shouted, “Hey, Stallion!” She had clearly bought a new, red dress. Her blonde hair and makeup were both very well done. There was no doubt she had recently come into some wealth. The worst of it was that she was only nineteen, almost three years younger than Mairenn. Norah still had her adolescent frame and looks, where as Mairenn had already just began her decline into maturity. There was no chance she could compete with her. The stranger rode up to Norah and helped her up onto his steed before riding back to her sister’s home.

Mairenn was not going to give up. There were still plenty of men around, most of them whom hadn’t seen a women in several weeks. She was going to take a man home tonight, and she was going to get paid well. And it wasn’t long at all before another possible client came into sight. He was a hefty young man in modest garb and a sword at his waist. What caught her eye more than anything was the amount of coin he just sold a box for.

The man walked into the inn, and so followed Mairenn. She took a seat beside him at the counter. She boldly opened the conversation, “How long you been out at sea?” She did so gazing into his eyes and using every flirtateous gesture she knew, from twirling hair to batting her lashes. It wasn’t terribly long before the two of them were on their ways back to her home.

[This is not Tony’s game. Use your imagination.]

The next few months were business as usual. Almost every night she’d go down to the docks, and more often than not, she was successful at bringing home a companion for the night. Until one night, she felt suddenly ill. She had just finished performing a service of her particular profession, and the surly man she had brought home had already fallen asleep. She quickly lept out of bed and rushed to the window, where she began to vomit on the packed earth below.

The next months were hard for Mairenn. Some nights she was able to work, but those grew fewer and fewer as she grew wider around her midsection. It was only a matter of time before she couldn’t work at all. Even when she felt fine, she was still not the ideal candidate for most men seeking a bedding for the night. She found that if she worked for almost nothing, a lot of men didn’t care what she looked like, as long as she had the right plumbing.

Somewhere around nine months after that lively night at the docks, Mairenn gave birth to a baby boy who she named him Keane. It wasn’t too long after his birth when she was able to start working again. Once she’d put her baby to bed, she’d hit the streets, doing what she knew how to do. It may not have been the best life available, but it’s the best way she knew how to make a living.

Only so many images the site will let me upload so instead I am going to link the pictures from deviant. So you can find the new post right here—→ :D

Promised those guys who I have been making friends with that I would try to buy/trade back some of their gear from the quartermaster Grok, whom I have on good authority loves good rum. She and I had a rather pleasant conversation and in the end I got Keane’s odd sword and my alchemist lab back. We were all charged with cleaning out the bilge room of rats which I wasn’t really any help. I did summon some vipers to help out with the cleaning process, but I am very glad I didn’t go down there. Without my noticing that damned Cat gave a bunch of infected rats to Fish Guts to cook up and serve. In the end half of the crew became sick, luckily none of the officers, I fear what would have happened to me if that hadn’t been the case. Keane, Logan, and Zzyzx shared my turtle soup with me instead of eating the tainted rat stew. There was a fight set up for the officers’ amusement between Keane and “Owlbear”. I got beaten up for trying to help out with the use of magic, which wasn’t even needed because it only took a punch from Keane to lay Owlbear flat.Mike has layed in your image for you via code.

It was a clear day, though the sky was not entirely void of clouds. Wormwood had been sailing for a few days, its new “recruits” adjusting to the ship. Then, land was spotted. A few of the new — Inet, Keane, Catbox, and Sandara — crewmembers were randomly selected to retrieve fresh water and foodstuffs.

There were two other crewmembers — still randomly selected — who usually were grouped with them on their missions: Logan and Zzyzx. And though the two of them had just met days ago, they already felt a strange bond with one another. It was quite odd, as if they had known each other for a lengthy duration of time.

The others left for the island in search of food and water, where Loan and Zzyzx were left aboard, high in the rigging. Logan, who had taken the crow’s nest couldn’t help but be singing under the blue sky, despite his most recent situation. From a certain point of view, it could be seen as a job opportunity. Caught in the moment, he sung loader than intended, and Zzyzx caught the sound of his voice in the ocean wind. Zzyzx focused on Logan who instantly ceased all sound, even breathing as he turned an most interesting color of red. Zzyzx couldn’t help but smile. He actually enjoyed the sound of Logan’s singing voice.

Inet Aldasumé was born and raised in an average wood elf village, her parents were both merchants making them one of the few families to have any lengthy contact with other races. When Inet was 10 years old her parents took her with on a longer trading route to a coastal village. Inet had been taken with the sea being that it was her first time seeing it and spent the entirety of the first day at the beach. As she was being called back indoors by her mother a large wave suddenly appeared and swept her off the beach. Her parents spent hours trying to find her body before giving up when the dark of night made their eyes useless. On the following day they found her sitting on the beach completely changed; she had been blonde with golden eyes like her father, instead she had black hair that looked like wet seaweed and mismatched green and blue eyes. They were too happy to find her alive to question the change so deeply.

After that event when they brought her back home she was never the same. Inet took a liking to making concoctions both with alchemy and food and her parents supported her habits but were concerned by her preoccupation with studying and lack of social interactions. There was also her fixation on drawing a strange bulbous creature with 8 tentacled limbs all over every surface of her room. When asked about it Inet expressed that the creature she drew was named Oatu and he was her best friend in the world. The arch mage of the village examined Inet, the only conclusion he could come to was that Inet had been touched by the sea and that the strange creature she drew was her connection to some sort of arcane power. His advice to her parents were to continue their support of her interests because to attempt to separate her from her interest might result in an unsavory disposition. Especially since it was observed that at times when Inet would get frustrated with someone little misfortunes would follow them, like finding every loose stone on a short road, or eating an apple laden with worms. Best not tempt such misfortune.

So Inet continued on for several decades, studying, mixing, cooking, and collecting anything sea-related her parents brought back for her from their travels. In the course of those 40 years they had never brought her with them on a journey to a coastal settlement, too frightened that the sea would call her and she would never return to them. When she was 54, Inet finally decided that she wanted to find her octopus (eventually discovered the species in a book when she was 16) friend Oatu. Inet left home with a sizable fortune that her parents supplied her, so as to support herself and set out for the coast. Inet used her inheritance to build a stilted house on the beach laden with all the things she loved to study. After two months in her new home Inet finally met Oatu who was stowed away in one of her fishing traps. To her, he was the most beautiful creature in the world all sand colored with bright blue rings. As soon as she held him the whole world made sense to her and she knew that her life would never be the same. Never again would she live in the forest away from the sea, the ocean was her home and the source of her magic and there she would stay. From that day on she was no longer Inet Aldasumé, she was Inet White’tide.

Because this is an existing world, and something that others know about, this could potentially save anyone making a wiki for this page a lot of work. Rather than adding places and things that are relevant to the campaign on this wiki, we could use the existing Pathfinder Wiki, complete with a page on the Shackles.

A blog for your campaign

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.